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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085802">Lean In</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo2831/pseuds/Indigo2831'>Indigo2831</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>911 Lone Star 1x08, Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Found Family, Friendship, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:33:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo2831/pseuds/Indigo2831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to 1x08, Monster Inside.  TK isn't the only one fighting for his life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>199</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lean In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As usual, I was fighting to get this tag up before the episode aired.  I made it, barely.  So it might be slightly AU by the time you read it.  I wanted to write something about TK getting shot, because I just can't resist the whump, but I didn't have time to do medical research on comas and chest tubes, and honestly, Judd spoke to me more than TK right now.  </p><p>This was quickly written and revised, so I apologize for any errors.  Please let me know what you think.  Happy Finale Day!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Judd nudged the music higher in his ears with the desperate hope that guitar and bass would help to channel the restless energy into good instead of the endless abyss of anxiety.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buttercup’s head on his leg and the soft glide of his fur beneath the fingers of his left hand was doing far more for his blood pressure than Chris Stapleton.  He pulled off his headphones, letting them settle around his neck and rolled back from the ergonomic chair in Owen’s fancy-schmancy office to give him some proper love.  Buttercup’s tail thumped happily against the floor.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gonna be alright, man,” Judd reassured him.  “Maybe we can disguise you as a service dog and sneak you in,” Judd suggested with a few loving pats to the dog’s flank.  “He’ll hate it enough to wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the team arrived from the call distraught and without TK, Buttercup had searched the station with a frantic sadness that Judd wouldn’t have thought capable for a slobbering beast.  He waffled between crying on TK’s bed and patrolling the station, thinking he’d missed him. Since then Judd had been reassuring him whenever he could (and pretending it wasn’t for his own good).  Judd had spent every second of the last fourteen hours willing himself not to be dragged back into that cramped, too-bright hallway that was soon splattered with TK’s blood, Owen’s horror, and the soundless scream of TK struggling to breathe with a collapsed lung. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This tragedy was too close for Judd to lean into as therapy had taught him and the hospital was triggering him ways he couldn’t admit to the team, so he kept himself busy instead.  Owen had more than enough to worry about with TK suffering from potential “brain issues” from precious one-minute and thirty-eight seconds his body had been without oxygen, so he busied himself with caring for the dog, restructuring the shifts, scrubbing the trucks, and writing an incident report about the call from hell.  Two decades as a firefighter had at least taught him how to detach enough to accomplish that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d be lying to himself if he said he never planned to be Captain of the 126.  He had his eye on the chair ever since he was a bright-eyed probie, but after losing his squad, moving onward still felt like disrespecting the brothers he’d lost.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judd was doing inventory in the supply room, Buttercup his helpful shadow, when Owen slinked in, bleary-eyed and unshaven.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen stared at Judd for a long moment before stepping closer.  Judd hugged him without question. He’d realized pretty quickly that Owen and TK expressed affection through touch that was much softer than the slaps upside the head he’d gotten from his own daddy--and if anyone needed a patented Ryder Bear Hug it was the man who moved half-way across the country for a fresh start only to have his only son get shot before his very eyes.  By a kid.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t ask if anything had changed.  The wetness seeping through his Texas Tech t-shirt was answer enough.  It was Owen who pulled away with a slap to the shoulder, and a discreet swipe of his stubbled cheeks.  “What are you doing here?” Judd asked.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re running some tests right now, so they kicked me out.”  His voice sounded as empty and wrecked as Owen looked, and Judd had to resist the urge to hug him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a redneck reputation to uphold, after all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen checked his watch while scrubbing his other hand restlessly through his hair.  “I figured I have just enough time to file my report, shower, and change before taking some work back to the hospital,” Owen said distractingly as Buttercup nudged his side, probably expecting treats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen ignored the dog and backed out of the supply room and into the kitchen.  Judd followed with Buttercup on his heels. “Report’s done and on your desk. Feel free to make any edits based on your POV.  I changed the schedule so one of us can always be at the hospital with you. Captain Yaeger from the 122 pretty much bleeds smoke, so I got him to cover your shifts for a while.  I called the chief and scheduled the incident debrief with dispatch and the precinct for after-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen blinked from over his cherished bag of pure Kona coffee.  “After? After what?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judd plucked the bag from his hand and stowed it in the cabinet.  He handed him a pre-made smoothie that was a repulsive green instead.  “After chemo. You have a treatment in an hour.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen’s shoulders dropped and he rapped the counter with a fist.  “I forgot.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’ll have to wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hell it will,” Judd challenged.  “If you don’t go, it will destroy everything you’ve been fightin’ for.  Which is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your life</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you have me confused with my son.  Who might have </span>
  <em>
    <span>irreparable brain damage</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I don’t care what happens to me.  TK waking up is all that matters,” Owen gritted out, eyes flashing a furious blue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed the smoothie in the sink.  The lid of the travel cup burped open and spewed green slop all over the polished ceramic backsplash.  Buttercup barked at the unexpected noise. Owen stared at it angrily. Judd knew he was seeing blood red, not green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Ya know, there’s a reason why family shouldn’t serve on shifts together,” Owen whispered, eyes haunted. “Just seeing him in that hospital bed is every parents’ nightmare.  But watching your son, the little angelic boy that used to fit in the crook of my arm, get shot and flatline...is worse than a nightmare.  If he’s not okay, if he doesn’t recover...well, the cancer would be a blessing.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judd licked the smoothie off his fingers and rocked forward in agreement.  “Grace and I were trying to have kids...ya know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” he heard himself saying.  “Now, after, I just couldn’t even stomach the idea of losing that, too.  I don’t think Grace can’t either right now. But gettin’ to know your kid, I don’t know, that little twerp made the idea seem not so bad.  Like the second he found out you had cancer, he handed me a binder of your treatment plan and medications and doctor’s appointments and showed me how to make your damn smoothie slop so you were covered if he couldn’t.  This kid was worryin’ about you just as much as you worry about him, and even my cynical self can find the beauty in that,” Judd said. He ventured closer to Owen. “Neither of us can change what happened. I know you’d walk through fire to do it, and the 126 would be right behind you.  But you can’t. And I can’t. I can’t fix him, but I can help you. Because I promised that kid. And he’s gonna kick my ass if I fail him. Now, you can go on your own or I can hogtie you and drag you there like a stubborn calf. Your choice.” The threat was smooth steel, but the cross of Judd’s arms conveyed its seriousness.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen stared him down for a long moment before relenting, stepping over Buttercup who was licking up the smoothie that had dripped on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And cut the fussin’ over your hair in half because we gotta have to be there in forty-five minutes.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen trudged towards the showers, pausing at the doorway.  “You’re gonna make a great captain someday, Ryder.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warmth spread through the haze of shock Judd had embraced ever since he heard the sound of a gun and saw TK collapse. “Not for a long time, if I can help it.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-Lone Star- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judd yawned as Owen was settled in the chair and hooked up to an innocuous IV bag.  Owen seemed used to the ritual, shrugged into a too big hoodie and flipping up the hood as if he was trying to disappear.  Judd’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he checked it stealthily as Owen dosed through his treatment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re like a teenager with that thing.  Sorry my getting pumped with poison is so boring,” Owen snapped with his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my wife,” Judd said, pretending to be affronted.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen looked contrite.  “Oh, sorry. Tell her I said thanks for the soup.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell her yourself.  It’s for you,” He handed his cell phone to Owen.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Owen took it, slightly confused.  His face split into a smile as he saw that Grace had positioned the camera so Owen could TK in his hospital bed.  Her sweet voice echoed in the small speakers. “He’s still restin’,” she announced, “but he was movin’ a little before, flicking his of the fingers, turning his head.  He’s fighting, Owen.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Judd could see the luminous brown of Grace’s hand laying hands on TK, offering comfort as Owen would.  From the angle, they could see various parts of the 126--Marjan’s hijab, Mateo standing in the corner, Paul’s jittering legs, a stripe of Michelle’s hair.  Owen gazed at Judd with tears in his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If anyone understood the guilt, it was Judd.  He hadn’t had the chance to pick his team up and carry through the disaster that had set all this in motion, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t honored to do it now.  So Judd dropped all that Texas swagger, leaned into this tragedy, and scooted the chair closer to his friend and offered tactile solace as Owen tearfully spoke to his son. “We got you, Owen, both of you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because this was different than that manure plant.  There was hope and support and love, and Judd knew that somehow, it would power them through.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Fin</em>
</p>
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